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flamehairedwritings · 4 years

Text

The Fire In Your Eyes: Chapter Fifteen

Characters: Arthur Morgan x Original Female Character

Rating: The whole series will be E, 18+ ONLY for violence, gore, character deaths, animal deaths, parent deaths, swearing, grief, sexual themes and unprotected sex.

Summary: Saved by Arthur Morgan when her town is attacked, a young woman’s past comes back to haunt her when she has no choice but to join the Van der Linde Gang.

Some scenes and dialogue have been taken from the game!

Read on AO3

The Fire In Your Eyes Masterlist

Please don’t copy, steal or re-post my work; credit does not count.

The Dawn

Five Weeks Later

He leapt out of the row boat onto the jetty, landing heavily. If there had been anyone around, besides the captain who’d rowed him over, they would have heard a sharp, muttered curse, watched him pause.

Then, he pushed himself up, staggering just slightly, and nodded his gratitude to the captain. The man nodded in return silently, then started to row away.

It felt like a very long walk up to the main and only street of Van Horn for Arthur Morgan.

Shady Belle. That’s where he’d start. Part of him knew, hoped, they wouldn’t all be there, that they’d have moved on, that would have been the smart thing to do. But how to get there?

Stopping on the street to catch his breath, Arthur looked right, then left. A few horses were tied to posts, but every establishment was quiet, even the bar. Then again, it was only a few hours until the sun would rise. The strongest looking horse was to his left. He started moving.

“Hey, girl... good girl...” he murmured to her as she lifted her head, shifting a little uneasily.

She soon settled, though, as he stroked her neck and murmured to her, slowly unwinding the reins from the post. She was beautiful, a piebald Hungarian Half-bred. He hadn’t seen one of those in a while.

Still softly whispering to her, he gripped the saddle and pulled himself up, hissing out a breath.

Bone-aching tiredness and this horse would get him home.

To her.

He encountered no one as he left Van Horn, urging the horse into a light canter. It was the first time in nearly over a month that he’d been alone. Guarma had been... He hoped to God he never had to be in a place like that again. He couldn’t stop his heart from aching slightly at those who were still trapped there, but he had faith in Hercule and his men. Besides, he had his own battles and problems to think about.

Dutch was one of those problems.

Later, think on it later. Just get home.

To her.

Christ. When had he last been able to think of her properly?

Not yet, not yet. Wait ‘til you see her.

If he saw her.

Only a few travellers passed him as he made his way to Shady Belle. He was just grateful for the quiet, and kept his mind blank, watching the paths he took. It must have rained a little while before as there were puddles everywhere and the mud was slick. The horse handled it well, though. He quickly took a shine to her.

Passing a bridge that would lead into Saint Denis and riding past the fields of Caliga Hall, he marvelled at how long ago all their businesses there felt, how much had changed since then.

How people had changed. How he had changed. How... How people had died.

His jaw moved.

Don’t think about that now.

He slowed the horse as they neared Shady Belle, coming down to a walk. He strained to hear as they passed the trees and shrubs that had once been so familiar. Then, he turned on to the main path and he saw it, the large, once great building, still intact. His gaze darted about as he rode down towards it, but he saw no one, heard nothing, not even crickets and flies. He pulled the horse to a gentle halt as she came to the fountain, and he dismounted slowly. The front doors were open, anyone could shoot at and kill him now, he had no weapons, nothing. Continuing to scan the area, he checked the saddlebag on the horse. Just a few coins and a map of Lemoyne.

Exhaling a breath, he turned towards the house, patting the horse’s neck gently. Looking to the right, there was a collapsed wagon, and to the left, the bandstand.

Her bandstand.

He moved to it. Peered in. Nothing.

He moved to the house. Rain had gotten in, staining the first few floorboards beyond the doors. Inside, it looked just as it had when he and John had first arrived to clear it out for all of them; books, papers and leaves strewn about, furniture turned over, bottles and cans piled together. People must have been using this place, but it hadn’t been his people.

He closed his eyes as he ran a hand through his sand and sea-salt thick hair. What the hell was he doing here. He had no way to track them. What if they really had all gone? What if... What if something had happened to them? Rubbing at his face, he moved to his right, into the closest room. He sat down heavily on the non-collapsed side of a faded chaise lounge and put his head in his hands.

He was so God damn tired. Exhausted. Like he’d never been before in his life. He’d never been the kind of man to give up, but now...

Hosea dead.

Lenny dead.

Charles, he didn’t know.

John, too.

Dutch...

Lifting his head and sitting back, he stared across the room into the next, his hands falling to his lap. The table they’d once placed maps and books on was still upright, two bottles on it and propped between them an—

He frowned.

... And an envelope. A pristine one, that very much looked out of place.

Pushing himself up, Arthur crossed the room to the table, grabbing the envelope.

Tacitus Kilgore, the front read.

Their alias.

A corner of his mouth lifted as he turned it over and ripped it open. He fumbled slightly as he pulled a folded piece of paper out of it and opened it, instantly beginning to read.

Dear Uncle Tacitus,

I do so hope you enjoyed your vacation. Lucky you! Leaving like that. And you always suggested you were too old for travel. I hope you and your cousins enjoyed yourselves. Me and your grand nieces have decided to take a trip of our own as the place has become so dreary and godforsaken in your absence. We have gone to visit relatives (from my Daddy’s side. You are not yet acquainted with them) in Lakay, a small village just north of Saint Denis.

It’s buggy and muggy but apparently neither is too bad at this time of year. Please come see us when you can.

Yours sincerely,

Caroline

“Well, thank you, darling niece ‘Caroline’,” Arthur murmured as he smiled, folding the letter back into the envelope.

The tone rang of Sadie, but also her.

He placed it back on the table, leaving it for any of the other men who might try their luck here for any sign of their gang.

Rolling his shoulders, he headed for the door, finding the last of his energy.

Lakay. Them. Her.

Soon, he would be with them.

—

He’d had to slow the gallop of the horse as they entered the heartland of the swamps. It was muddier here, the swamp overflowing to the paths and making the horse skid slightly. Despite his eagerness, he kept her to a light canter, not wanting any broken necks or legs for either of them.

It was quiet and dark, the morning light breaking through the large, heavy trees in thin shafts. He had to commend them, it was well covered, and he certainly wouldn’t want to bring an army through here to look for them.

He slowed to a trot as he passed through some muddy water and between two short wooden poles, small skulls attached to the top of them.

Great.

Then, he saw them. Shacks and sheds in an odd kind of circle, dim lanterns dotted around, and...

Abigail, Pearson and Tilly.

He pulled the horse to an abrupt halt and dismounted, unsure of how he managed to stay on his feet, his legs so close to giving out. He stared at them. Abigail, Pearson and Tilly. They were bent over a table, each working on a part of a meal, evidently. Then, Abigail raised her head. The knife dropped from her hand, clattering loudly on the table.

“Arthur?!” Her arms were around him before he knew it. Closing his eyes, he found himself smiling as he patted her back.

He wanted to sink into the warm embrace, but it wasn’t the one he really wanted.

“Hey.” God, his voice sounded terrible to his own ears. When was the last time he’d had water?

“’Hey’? Like you ain’t been away so God damn long,” Abigail half-scoffed, half-wept as she pulled back, smiling with relief.

“Had a nice time, Morgan?” Pearson asked with a grin, clapping him on the back.

“Yeah, Micah tell you all about how lucky we was?” Arthur answered good-naturedly. He’d missed them all, and it nearly broke his heart to see how delighted and relieved Tilly and Abigail were, both of them crying, but he really only wanted to see one person. He was about to ask when Abigail gripped his arm.

“They took John, Arthur, at the bank.”

His heart dropped. “I know, Abigail, where is he?”

“They got him, he’s in Sisika Penitentiary, Arthur, he’s probably gonna hang!”

He rubbed her back gently, sobs rising within her again. “It’s all righ’, sweetheart, it’ll be all righ’. Dutch’ll be here real soon and we’ll get him back, I promise.”

Christ, John...

His heart ached.

Smiling gently at her, Arthur glanced between them all. “Where’s Annie?”

“Oh, God, of course, I’m sorry, Arthur.” Abigail wiped her eyes sheepishly, looking to Tilly. “She was on watch, wasn’t she? She should just be—”

“Arthur?”

That voice.

His gaze lifted.

There she was. Staring at him. A shotgun held in one hand by her side. Her hair tied back. Clean blue blouse and black skirt. Brown belt wrapped around her waist along with a gunbelt around her hips, two revolvers in holsters. His bandanna tied loose around her neck. Her lips parted. Her eyes shining.

Then, she was striding towards him. The shotgun ended up in Pearson’s hands, from him catching it as she either dropped it or thrust it into his hands, he didn’t know, didn’t care.

As Ada threw her arms around his neck, his eyes closed and his own wrapped around her. He held on to her tightly, his face pressed into the crook of her neck.

She was safe. She was alive.

“I knew you couldn’t be dead, I knew it,” he heard her whispering, her voice cracking, “They’d have put it all over the papers, we’d have known, we’d have just known...”

He just held her, letting her surround him.

She held on just as tightly, taking shuddering breaths. It was several moments before she pulled back abruptly and gripped his shoulders, her eyes darting over him.

“Are you hurt? Your skin is all red, what happened?”

He gazed at her, keeping a hold on her waist. “I’m fine. A little thirsty and hungry, but fine.”

“Come here, come on.” She was taking his hand and leading him somewhere, and at some point the others must have disappeared because they were no longer there, but he just looked at her.

Her hair was shorter, he suddenly realised. It now fell to between her shoulder blades rather than near her waist. He was going to ask what happened when she turned to him, having led him behind a barely-standing shed.

“Sit down.” She dragged a crate closer to him.

He obeyed, trusting that it would bear his weight. It did, and he placed his hands on his knees as she pulled a bucket of water closer, a rag swimming in it.

“It’s clean, I promise,” she murmured, though he wasn’t fazed.

Gripping the rag and squeezing some water out of it, she then started to gently wipe at his face, and the coolness of it felt like heaven.

“Tell me what happened.”

He cleared his throat as he gazed at her. “Ain’t you gotta keep an eye out?”

“Oh, nothing happens around here.” She smiled lightly. “Well, apart from the Night Folk, but they loiter around the western roads.”

“The Night Folk?” The name rang a faint, tired bell.

“That’s a story for another time,” she answered, raising her eyebrows slightly as her smile widened a little more.

She swept the cloth down his neck before dipping it back into the water again. His fingers brushed against her skirt, gripping the material gently.

“You haven’t changed. Well, ‘cept the hair.”

She met his gaze, dabbing at the part of his chest she could get to, her smile lingering.

“You have.”

“Ah, well, ain’t no barbers in Guarma.”

“Guarma?!” Her hand dropped as she stared at him. “What the hell were you doing there?!”

“Micah and Javier didn’t say?”

“Oh, well... I heard they’d come back but I just... stayed on my watch. I didn’t really know what I wanted to hear.” Grazing her teeth over her lower lip, she gripped at his shirt. “Come on, let’s get this off while you tell me.”

As he raised his arms to help her pull it off, wincing slightly as various aching muscles protested, and she started to wash him, he told her everything, beginning to end. How the bank had been surrounded almost instantly. How Hosea had been shot before them. How they’d blown a hole in the wall of the bank and escaped. How Lenny had been killed as they ran. How they had waited in a dingy room in a boarded-up building for darkness to fall, hiding like rats. How Charles had made himself a diversion, drawing guards away. How they’d managed to get onto a boat and convinced the captain to let them stay. How there had been a storm and the boat had caught fire somewhere in the ocean and they’d had to abandon it, jumping in to the water. Guarma and the hell it had provided. The journey back.

The only comment she gave throughout was that Charles had survived and found them and was still with them. Other than that, she just washed the dirt, sweat, sand and sea-salt from his chest, face and hair, expressionless. Even Hosea and Lenny’s deaths elicited no response from her, but he didn’t let it trouble him.

“Christ...” she finally said after he’d finished, exhaling a long breath. “... and Bill and Dutch are coming?”

“Yeah, we thought it’d be best if we went one at a time with quite some time between us to try and draw as little attention as possible.” He cleared his throat, wanting to ask for water to drink but not wanting her to leave him, even if only for a short while. “But what about you all, how did you all get away? What happened after we left?”

“Pinkerton men came minutes after the explosion.” Her lips twitched at his expression. “Yeah, we heard that all the way at Shady Belle. We packed everything up, came here, not before we exchanged shots. Everyone is fine,” she quickly continued at his mouth opening, “Well, couple of scratches and bruises here and there. Couple of shots to legs and—”

“Whose?”

She pressed her lips together slightly. “Mine. Don’t worry, all right, stop,” she swiftly continued again as he frowned and opened his mouth again. “I’m fine. It didn’t hit anything vital, just meant I couldn’t do much for a little while. Still limp a little and it aches every now and then but that should go away, hopefully.” Her features fell slightly. “Tilly got it worse. Bullet grazed her neck, but she’s okay, thank God. Oh, and there’s this...”

As she brushed curls off of her forehead, he saw it; a thin white scar starting from the upper right side of her forehead, going almost diagonal across it, and curving down past her left eyebrow.

“Jesus Christ...” One hand gripped her chin gently as he angled her head, his gaze following it. “What—”

“It’s fine. I’m fine.” She lifted her head out of his touch, smiling lightly. “Nice, huh?” She was already continuing before he could answer. “Anyway, Sadie knew about this place. We reconvened in some woods up north the night it all happened, that’s how Charles found us, and then she and Charles rode ahead, chased away the men who were living here. Like I said, been quiet since then.”

Arthur kept a hold on her skirt as he looked at her. He knew it was pointless to worry about what had already happened, and she was fine, but guilt still set in. He should have been there.

His hand found her free one, lacing their fingers together. “How you been?”

“Fine,” she answered, soaking the rag again.

“Ada.” His thumb brushed over her knuckles.

She exhaled a breath as she met his gaze, a smile tugging at her lips. “You made me cry, Arthur Morgan. More than once. I won’t forgive you for making me feel, cowboy.”

His chest tightened. He knew she wasn’t saying it to make him feel guilty, that she was just teasing, a little. He just couldn’t help but think about the burdens she’d had to carry, how she’d worried day after day. He’d had escaping and saving Javier to keep him occupied, combined with dehydration and near starvation. Even on the boat back he’d just slept, eaten, drank, then slept. God, the guilt could’ve crushed him. He knew apologising wouldn’t even begin to make up for it.

Taking the rag from her hand, he dropped it and took her by the waist, drawing her on to his lap.

“Arthur, I didn’t mean it...” she began to protest gently.

“It’s all righ’, sweetheart, it’s okay,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her.

She fell silent, her head resting against his shoulder. He tightened his hold on her, his chin on top of her head. She released a breath, her arm sliding around his back.

“What you been up to while we ain’t been around to make things excitin’?” he asked quietly, his fingers brushing against her skin.

She didn’t move, taking a breath. “Oh, the Night Folk have made things very exciting. Other than that, we’ve been lying low. And Sadie and I have been going after O’Driscolls.”

Jesus Christ.

Arthur lifted his head, looking down at her. “What?”

Drawing her head back as well, Ada smiled. “Don’t give me that look. I told you we would, and we’ve survived so far, obviously.”

Well, can’t argue with that.

Arthur exhaled a breath. “Righ’... Does she know?”

“Yeah.” Her hand slid up his back to settle on his shoulder. “I told her a few days after we got here.”

“About everythin’?”

“Yeah. I think she could tell something was up, anyway, had been able to for a while. She also thinks I’m hell bent on revenge like her.” Her eyebrows rose slightly as she brushed her fingers against his neck. “Which I suppose I am.”

Jesus, he had missed out on some things.

“Really?”

She smiled slightly. “I just want peace of mind. I just want to know.”

He took her free hand. “You found any sign of him?”

“We’ve interrogated a few and asked them but there are so many Thomas O’Driscolls, though, it’s hard to narrow them down. The ones we’ve caught didn’t seem close enough to Colm to really know anything.” Meeting his gaze, she smiled again. “Anyway, we shouldn’t be talking about me.”

She cupped his cheek and he leaned in to the touch, so, so grateful to feel it once more.

“Made you cry, did I,” he said quietly, a corner of his mouth lifting.

She snorted lightly, gazing at him in such a way he felt he didn’t deserve.

“Not just you.” She said it before she could stop herself, taking a breath when he frowned. “Oh... My Faithful was hurt during the fight. I had to shoot him to put him out of his misery.”

His heart dropped.

“Oh, shit, sweetheart, I’m so sorry—”

“No, please...” she cut him off gently, a small smile lifting her features again. “It’s fine. You men just keep breaking my heart, don’t you?”

He exhaled a laugh, caressing her back. “I’m gonna have to make it up to you.”

“You can start by not going anywhere, Morgan.” Her arms wrapped around his neck.

“That I can do, sweetheart.”

“Oh, I’m going to make sure of it.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She laughed softly, her fingers brushing against his damp hair. Grazing her teeth over her lower lip, she lowered her voice a little. “Morale’s low, Arthur. Well, was low. I think you all returning will boost things.”

“Well, I ain’t surprised, you all ain’t had it easy.”

“It’s been okay, just...” She pressed her lips together. “Molly’s gone.”

"What?” He frowned.

Well, shit... That wasn’t good.

Ada shrugged. “She just disappeared, days after we got here. No one seems to mind, though, I think they all seemed quite relieved. And I’m assuming Abigail told you about John?” She sighed as he nodded. “People are worried.”

“I know,” he murmured, “I feel like an ass, I didn’t even have a chance to think about him while we were out there.”

Her fingers stroked his hair. “Well, Sadie and I have tried to think about what to do, while the general consensus has been to just wait for Dutch, whenever he would return.”

The words just came out. “Well, I don’t know if he’s the right person to make a judgement call right now.”

She looked at him.

“What do you mean?”

He shifted a little, his thumb absent-mindedly brushing over her ring. “Somethin’ happened in Guarma.” He laughed shortly. “Well, not just Guarma. The last few months have been bad call after bad call. I can’t blame him all for that, though, it’s also circumstances but... In Guarma, he killed a woman. An old lady. With no good reason. And he... I don’t know if he’s in his right mind, anymore.”

She caressed the back of his neck, pressing a gentle kiss to his cheek before murmuring, “You need sleep, Arthur Morgan.”

He smiled, realising it was the first time she’d kissed him. “Yeah, I do.”

Moving off of him carefully, she took his hand once more. “You can have my bedroll. It’s not particularly comfortable, I’m afraid, just an inch off the rickety, old boards, and we don’t have many blankets to go around. Or maybe one of the hammocks would be better—”

He rose, shaking his head. “It’ll be fine. Anythin’ is better than the floor of a boat or Guarma ground.”

She squeezed his hand. “Let’s get you some fresh clothes and something to eat first.”

He was left alone to change and eat, besides Ada sitting right beside him for the latter, though, and he was grateful for it. Charles grinned and hugged him and Sadie slapped him on the back when they returned from hunting, but they just said they were glad he was back and okay before they moved on, leaving him alone. A damn good man and woman. They all asked if he was okay at one point or another but having heard the tale already from Micah, who’d been the first off the boat and first to arrive back, they were all just glad to see he was there, letting him eat as much stew as he wanted.

It started to rain at some point, darkness falling with it, keeping everyone in the main shack, and they were all quiet, Micah, Javier and Arthur, and Uncle, of course, dozing and catching up on their sleep in hammocks while everyone else did the little odd jobs they’d got into the routine of doing. Ada caught Sadie’s eye as they cleaned their guns, sharing a warm, relieved smile.

The quiet didn’t last long, though.

“Dutch! Dutch is here!” Susan cried as she shoved the door to the main cabin open, beaming, her eyes shining.

Dutch van der Linde stepped in to the small cabin to the sound of gasps, cheers and greetings. He smiled widely at all of them, the men waking up with a start and everyone rising out of their seats.

He could barely get a word out before Abigail was speaking over everyone, words pouring out of her.

“Dutch, Dutch, they got John!”

“Okay, okay,” he said with a gentle chuckle.

“He’s back!” Tilly cried as the men, finally out of their hammocks, entered the main room, grinning, and Uncle cheered.

Arthur rubbed at his eyes before meeting Dutch’s gaze, nodding at him and exchanging weary smiles. Everyone was crowded in the room now, standing in a circle around their king. Arthur stood beside Ada as she folded her arms, lifting her gaze and smiling at him.

He still couldn’t believe it. God, he couldn’t wait until they were alone.

She seemed to be thinking exactly the same thing as her teeth bit at her lower lip and the hint of a smirk appeared. She looked away after a moment, a faint tinge of pink on her cheeks as she turned her attention back to the room.

Dutch was looking between them all, half in shock, half in exhaustion, shaking his head slightly.

"How’d you folks find each other? What happened?" He chuckled tiredly again. ”Can, can somebody get me a cup of coffee or somethin’?”

Pearson leapt into action, moving to the back of the cabin.

“It was Sadie and Annie who saved us and got us movin’, Dutch,” Tilly beamed, giving each of them a wide smile.

“Yes,” Herr Strauss piped up, “After the robbery in Saint Denis, they got us away from camp before any more Pinkertons could turn up. Then Mrs Adler and Mr Smith drove away the degenerates who were living here!”

Pearson returned, handing Dutch a tin cup of coffee.

“Did they, now.” Dutch looked at Sadie and Charles, smiling gratefully. “Thank you, Mrs Adler, and Mr Smith, we owe you. And...” He looked to Ada then, and... she didn’t like what she saw lingering in his gaze. “Annie. Remind me...” He exhaled a short laugh. “It’s been so long, how did you come by those blueprints of the bank, again?”

Her eyebrows rose, as did several others. She knew where this was going. Had known this was what it would come to, but she kept control.

“At the party?” She adopted an air of faint confusion. “I went upstairs to investigate what I could and found them on a table in the mayor’s bedroom. Why?”

“What were you doing upstairs?”

This was the Dutch she knew him to be. Smiling, eyes cold.

She frowned slightly. “I just said, investigating. Like we were all there to do.��

“And they were just lying around?”

“Yes. Anyone else could have found them, Dutch. It just so happened to be me.”

“Yes, it did.”

People shifted around them, discomfort filling the air, but she just held his gaze.

“What are you implying, Dutch?”

His jaw moved, a muscle twitching, the smile gone. “I have lost three men. Two dead, one in prison and somebody is to blame for that.”

Anger was rising and she didn’t do much to stop it from seeping in to her tone. “Well, that person isn’t me.”

Silence suddenly descended.

Oh, fuck.

Then, a voice came from beside her.

“Hosea mentioned the bank first, Dutch,” Arthur said evenly.

To her left, Sadie nodded. “If she was workin’ for Bronte, Dutch, or anyone else, she would have left. She stayed and worked harder than anyone to keep us goin’ and rebuild.”

The sudden murmurings of agreement from the group seemed to faintly rattle Dutch, to her eyes, anyway. Then, he found her gaze again, and smiled.

“My dear Annie, please forgive me. I believe my weariness from the past few weeks has clouded my judgement. I am sorry.”

She didn’t know how she managed the smile, as light as it was. “Of course, Dutch. I understand.”

Abigail stepped forward, a bowl in her hands. “Come over here and sit down, Dutch, have some food.”

“Thank you, my dear.”

The moment his back turned and conversations resumed, Ada dropped her arms and strode to the back of the cabin. Arthur caught Sadie’s eye and was taken aback to find anger in them. She nodded in the direction Ada had gone, and he headed in it.

Opening the door, the rain lighter, he stepped out onto the jetty that wrapped around the side and back of the shed, finding Ada standing at the wooden railing, her hands gripping it as she stared across the river.

“You all righ’?” he murmured, joining her.

“No.” The word leapt out of her, desperate to finally be released. “No, I’m not.” She inhaled a sharp breath. “Granted, he was partly right in his thinking, of course, I didn’t just find it but I did not do it on purpose, I did not know what it would lead to, I am not responsible for their deaths, I’m not.”

He realised, then.

She’d struggled more than she’d let on.

That’s why Sadie had looked so angry.

How many times had she had to convince Ada it hadn’t been her fault?

Had it been duty or guilt fuelling her over the past month?

“It ain’t your fault at all,” Arthur said softly, keeping his gaze on her hard features. “He was talkin’ in Guarma about... he thinks someone’s betrayin’ him.”

“Well, it’s not me.” She nearly spat the words out.

“I know, I know that.” His hand settled over hers, his thumb stroking her skin. “If he really thought it was you he wouldn’t have dropped it.”

“Maybe.”

He could feel how tense she was, see it, but this was going to have to be a conversation for another time. They were too confined, too close to the others.

“Hey,” he murmured, squeezing her hand gently, “Take me to Ophelia, I gotta see my other favourite girl.”

That made the corner of her mouth lift slightly.

“I’m competing with a horse?”

“Yeah, and I ain’t gonna lie, your chances ain’t good.”

He relaxed as she laughed and her fingers laced with his, leading him around to the front of the cabin. “Come on, then, you fool.”

Neither of them heard the quiet boots that moved along the jetty, pausing to watch them disappear out of sight.

Micah smiled as he lit himself a cigarette, his eyes shifting across to the river, watching the water move.

—

Ophelia, quite rightly, was slightly put-out when Arthur and Ada approached her. She tossed her head and whinnied loudly, snorting and eyeing Arthur.

“Hey, girl,” he murmured, releasing his hold on Ada so he could stroke Ophelia’s neck and forehead. “Hey, I’m sorry, I know, you’re all righ’, though...”

She’d told him earlier about how Sadie and Karen had found her at Shady Belle when they’d gone back to the house a few days after the failed robbery to see if any of the men were there. Men were there, but not their men. Luckily, Ophelia was smart enough to evade them and bolt away, and the two women had gone after her, finding her in a patch of woods.

The men had been Pinkertons, and they’d soon found out after a few trips back that the men would visit the house seemingly every day, even all this time later. Sadie and someone else would still go, though, to see if any clues were left, and it was Sadie who left a letter the last time they went, knowing making so many trips was risky.

Ophelia quickly settled, pushing her muzzle against him and snorting quietly. He smiled, continuing to murmur to her. Ada couldn’t stop her own smile as she watched, before another whinny drew her attention.

"Who’s this?” she asked, raising her eyebrows as she spotted the Hungarian-Halfbred.

Arthur glanced over, stroking his hand down Ophelia’s neck. “Ah, that’s my new friend. Hijacked her from Van Horn to get here.”

“Oh?” Her smile widened as she stepped towards the horse, stroking her fingertips against her forehead. “Well, I think I owe you a thank you and debt of gratitude, then.”

“Have her.”

Her eyebrows rose as she looked at him, patting the horse’s neck. “Really?”

He shrugged. “Yeah. She’s good, solid, not a racer but got a good speed to her.”

“Well, thank you.” Her lips twitched as she scratched behind the horse’s ear. “You know, most women get jewellery.”

“I’ll steal that next time.”

She exhaled a laugh, her smile lingering as she gazed at the horse. “Hello,” she murmured as the tall piebald nudged at her arm. “I’ll have to think of what to call you. I suppose Lucky is a little too on the nose...” Raising her voice slightly so Arthur could hear, she said, ”What about Maggie? I always liked that name. Mags for short.”

“I like it.” He opened his mouth to continue, when his gaze suddenly darted over her shoulder and he frowned.

“Bill?”

Turning, Ada watched Bill stomp towards them, pissed off as always, his beard somehow bigger.

“Oh, thank God, here is where you all is!”

Arthur sighed and approached, waving him towards the main shack. “All righ’, all righ’, Christ, come on, inside. There’s hot food and coffee.”

“Oh, thank God...” Bill sped up, moving ahead of them.

Ada laughed under her breath as she watched him, and Arthur joined her at her side. Wrapping his arm around her shoulders, her’s going around his waist, they walked up to the shack together.

“Glad to have us all back, huh?”

She snorted.“Hmmh... Things will certainly be interesting again.”

When they reached the shack and entered, Bill was still grumbling on to everyone.

“... asked everyone I could find and eventually someone knew! Said you fools were out here.”

He didn’t seem to realise everyone was staring at him, and Ada felt her stomach twist.

Oh, fuck...

“Shit, get me a drink or somethin’!” he said to Sadie, the woman clearly seething.

“Get your own damn drink!” Sadie shot back.

“In our absence,” Dutch cut in before Bill could speak, his tone sharp, “Mrs Adler here has been looking after things. Now sit down.”

Bill clenched his jaw, but seemed very much cowed, and went to sit down, when the voice rang out.

“This is Agent Milton with the Pinkerton Detective Agency!”

Ada closed her eyes as people shot to their feet or hissed out a curse.

Oh, fuck...

“Already?” Dutch muttered, shocked, as she felt Arthur move behind her to peer out of a hole in the wood.

“Awh, shit...” he hissed.

“On behalf of Cornwall Kerosene and Tar,” Milton was carrying on, “the United States Government and the Commonwealth of West Elizabeth...”

“Here we go,” Dutch sighed as people drew or grabbed their guns.

“... we are here to arrest you! Come out with your hands up!”

Arthur had his back against the door, and was shrugging at Dutch as Ada turned, her jaw clenched. Arthur then moved to a window and before he could say a word to her, he was just left watching her stride to the back of the cabin as he heard Milton shout, “Let ‘em have it!”

Bullets instantly began thudding against the wood, flying through the open window and embedding into the wall.

“Get down!” Dutch yelled, and Arthur dove to the floor, watching Ada crawl across the floor to the back door.

“Arthur!” He looked to his right and saw Sadie moving, too. “Arthur, follow me!”

Gritting his teeth, he moved behind her, the bullets relentless.

“Asked everyone you could find, did you, Bill?!” he yelled as they passed the cursing man.

For once, the man had nothing to snap back, his face red.

“This is real bad!” Sadie called to him as they continued on, Ada already out of the door, rising to her feet.

He heard Tilly and Mary-Beth scream as the bullets were just not stopping.

And, yes... there was the unmistakable sound of a Gatling Gun.

“Stay down, all of you!” he shouted, when a bullet hit a lantern beside him, bursting into flames. Gritting his teeth as he and Sadie reached the door, passing through it and closing it behind them, he released a sharp breath, looking to her... and he then realised she was looking to Ada, the woman waiting for them, a revolver from her belt in her hand.

“Come on, this way,” she murmured, moving along the jetty.

“Where are we goin’?” Arthur said, keeping his voice down as they kept low, darting across the wooden boards.

“This way,” Ada answered, moving to the right, “There’s a trapdoor into the other house.”

“We can try to flank ‘em,” Sadie added.

Then, Ada dropped out of sight, and he noticed it a moment later; a square cut out of the jetty, revealing the muddy bank below. Sadie dropped down next, then him and he just followed them as they moved quickly under the stilts and wooden boars that kept the jetty and shacks up. The gang was firing back, he could hear, the sound deafening.

There was suddenly a square of light a few feet away and they ran to it, Ada lifting herself up through it first, then Sadie then him.

“Come on, quick,” Sadie murmured to him as they made it into the house.

“You fools weren’t listening to me, were you?” they could hear Milton shouting as Sadie took one side of the front doors and Ada took the other, Arthur joining her. “I showed mercy... you mistook it for weakness!”

Sadie met Ada’s gaze when, suddenly, there was silence.

“Why've they stopped shootin’?” she hissed as Ada paused, straining to hear.

“Now...” Milton continued, his voice ringing out. “... I will show strength, and you may mistake it for brutality. There is no escape for any of you! I shall hunt you to the ends of the earth and to the end of time!”

Arthur, peering through a gap in the wood, staring at Milton, felt rage surge within him.

Not on this fuckin’ day.

Not when he’d just got those he loved dear back.

“This idiot is really startin’ to irritate me...” he murmured, his jaw tight.

Still Milton was continuing. “I’ve killed your friends, and I’ve enjoyed killing them!”

And that was it.

Pushing away from the wood, he moved passed Ada, caught the rifle Sadie threw to him and kicked the doors open.

“... and now I’m gonna kill each—” Milton started to say.

“Arthur, wait!” Ada called.

But it was too late.

“Come on!” he yelled, aiming and firing instantly.

He killed the man at the Gatling Gun as he heard Sadie and Ada firing, and shots started to come from the main shack, too. The Pinkertons scrambled for cover as he saw Ada move to his right, her body in front of his, and, God damn, did she shoot, both revolvers in her hands now.

“We need to push ‘em back!” he shouted, but the two women were already doing just that, their turn to be relentless now as they stepped forward with every Pinkerton body that went down.

The lanterns did just enough to illuminate the Pinkertons in the darkness beyond, and he didn’t think, just all hate and pain and rage for Hosea, Lenny and John.

“Take them down!” Milton was screaming, but he sounded far off.

God damn coward.

“They’re comin’ from the side!” Sadie yelled. “Come on, let’s push ‘em back, keep goin’!”

“Don’t think for one minute you’re gonna have all the fun by yourselves!” Bill called out from behind them.

He had come out of the main house now, joining them and firing at the new wave of men approaching. They all took their own route through the wagons and sheds, fanning out and crouching and rising to dodge bullets and shoot back.

“Get them, get them, get them!” Milton thundered, but he sounded even further off, possibly retreating.

Good.

“They’re hidin’ in the trees!” Arthur called out. “Get after ‘em!”

They used the darkness to their advantage now, hunting the men down. Bullets struck the trees around him, not one finding their mark.

“We’ll kill every last one of ya!” Sadie yelled from somewhere close by, and she ran past him suddenly, overtaking him.

“I have had it with you bastards!” Bill was also shouting, but Ada, wherever she was, was silent.

Oh, God, please...

Then, he saw her, far up to the right, aiming and shooting, aiming and shooting, her features like pure, relentless thunder. There would be the fire burning in her eyes and, God, he had missed her.

“We need someone back here!” he suddenly heard Dutch from back behind them. “They’re comin’ down the main path!”

He saw Ada lift her head, and she started to stride towards the path.

“There’s more of them! Get on the Gatling Gun, Arthur!” she called to him as she broke out into a run.

He started running instantly. Shouldering the rifle, he pulled himself up into the wagon holding the gun as Sadie followed after him, using the wagon as cover, and to protect him. Swinging the gun around, he fired at the main path, feeling the power of the Gatling shaking his arms.

The Pinkertons shouted to each other, ducking for cover or even trying to run back, but he could see, behind a thick tree, Ada shooting them down.

“More on the left here!” Bill called.

“And to the right!” Sadie joined in.

“Keep your head down, I’m swingin’ this around!” Arthur shouted. “Keep your heads down!”

His people ducked and he fired in a circle, knocking down several of the remaining men.

“There’s more of them moving in!” Charles called, out of the shack now and somewhere in the darkness.

“Charles, this way!” he heard Ada yell from somewhere else.

He was distracted by the Gatling juddering slightly, out of bullets. Leaping over the side of the wagon, he shrugged the rifle off of his shoulder and joined Sadie, helping her on her side.

Suddenly, there was a small explosion to the left, and he and Sadie jerked, their heads whipping to it. Ada and Charles rose out of the darkness, shooting at the men who tried to scramble from the flames.

“That’s it! Run, you spineless sons of bitches!” Bill hollered, and, yes, Arthur could see them, retreating and running for the darkness.

Charles and Ada didn’t seem in merciful moods, though. They followed after them and Arthur watched man after man fall.

“Arthur!” Sadie’s voice caught his attention. Turning to her, he found her smiling. “We did it! That’s the last of ‘em!”

Then, there was silence.

Not allowing a sigh of relief yet, he squeezed Sadie’s shoulder as they rose, his gaze darting between the trees.

“I think you might be righ’...”

They moved to the main path, keeping a tight grip on their weapons.

“Annie? Charles?” he called out, seeing no sign of them.

Then, he saw them, moving up the path towards them.

“Here!” Ada called, a smile pulling at her lips as Charles walked by her side.

All the tension left his body as he blew out a breath, Sadie chuckling beside him, and Ada smiled, looking up at Charles who returned it. He patted her on the back as they neared and she said something Arthur couldn’t hear that made him chuckle.

“Well, that was a nice bit of excitement,” Sadie sighed cheerfully as she turned and headed back to the shed, Bill close behind her. Charles patted Arthur on the arm as he passed, Ada stopping before him, her smile lingering.

“You all righ’?” he asked, his tone softening.

“Just fine. You?”

“Yeah.”

The smirk returned to her lips, and he opened his mouth to speak when she closed the distance between them and gripped the front of his shirt, keeping him close as she tilted her head back, rose up on her toes and captured his lips.

His arm instantly went around her, keeping her tight against him as he revelled in every second of the kiss. She hummed against his lips, a sound akin to a moan, and he fisted her shirt, answering with a groan.

God, he had missed her, missed this, missed just being around her and feeling her and—

“Hey!”

They drew their heads back and looked to Sadie, a grin on her lips and an eyebrow arched. “C’mon, get in here, ya love birds.”

“Yeah, thank you for ruining that, we’re coming!” Ada called as Arthur chuckled.

“You’re welcome!” came the jovial response as Sadie disappeared inside the shack.

The rain started to pick up a little again as they moved towards the house, arms around each other.

When they were a few feet away, though, Dutch stepped out onto the jetty and moved down the few steps towards them, Micah close behind him.

“You saved us, Arthur,” Dutch said, looking very weary as he surveyed the bodies and mess.

“Well, me ‘nd Annie, Sadie, Bill ‘nd Charles,” he answered, keeping his arm around Ada who was silent.

“Yes, indeed,” Dutch smiled, meeting his gaze.

“Well,” Micah said, sitting on a step. “We ain’t been back for more than a few hours, and look at this...”

“What do we do, Dutch?” Arthur said without thinking. Force of habit, and he felt it.

“Well, clearly we need to leave,” Dutch said, a slight bite to his tone. “It’ll take them sometime to regroup.”

Micah was suddenly off the step, approaching Dutch with his hands on his hips.

Damn idiot’s tryna look like he’s part of the organisin’.

“Mr Pearson, Miss Grimshaw,” Dutch continued, calling back up to the shack as people looked out, “start packin’ up. Javier, you and Bill, get outta here. Go and scare off any scum still loiterin’ about. We need a couple of days...” He took a breath, then his shoulders dropped as he waved his hand. “Now go, please, gentlemen!”

They left with their instructions, leaving Micah, Arthur, Ada, Sadie and Abigail around him.

“What next, Dutch?” Arthur murmured, his eyes remaining on Dutch because... there didn’t seem to be much of a plan.

Dutch braced his hands against the wagon beside him, leaning against it as he released a breath. “We just need some time, I just, I, I need some time,” he stuttered slightly. “Now, we can’t go east, ‘cause then we’ll be in the ocean, so we’re gonna have to go north, I guess?” Arthur chest hurt as he looked at him fumble for an answer. “I just need somebody to buy me some,” his tone rose slightly as he slammed his fist down on the wagon, “God damn time, one of you.” He straightened, looking between them but not quite meeting their eyes.

“You’ll figure it out, boss,” Micah said gently, “You always do.”

“What are you gonna do about John, Dutch?” Abigail piped up, and, God damn, Arthur could see him being overwhelmed.

“John?” Dutch said, his gaze finding her.

Abigail frowned slightly. “He’s in jail.”

“W-we’ll get him, Abigail,” Dutch stammered even as he raised his hands in what once would have been a soothing gesture. “Just not, not yet.”

“There’s talk of hangin’ him,” Abigail shot back, her tone now rising.

“It’s not gonna come to that,” Dutch dismissed as he turned away.

“Dutch!” Abigail called after him, and Arthur felt Ada beside him, stiff and unmoving.

Dutch was already walking away, though, heading up to the shack, Micah following him. “Not now, Miss, I...” He waved his hand without turning. “... Not now.”

They watched him disappear inside. Before any of them could speak, Abigail turned to them suddenly, her eyes shining as she lowered her voice.

“I’m beggin’ you three, he’s...” She swallowed, looking between them. “... They’re gonna hang him. It would break my...” She looked away from them as she shook her head. “... the boy’s heart.” She looked back to them. “Please do something.”

“We will,” Sadie murmured, squeezing her arm in reassurance.

Abigail nodded, swallowed and then turned and walked away quickly, her arms folding.

Arthur blew out a breath as he met Sadie’s gaze.

“Okay,” she murmured to them, “That’s it, I’m gonna go figure out how we rescue this bastard.”

“Now?” Arthur asked quietly.

“Yes, now,” she insisted, “I’ll go into Saint Denis, see what I can find out.”

“Okay,” Ada answered before Arthur could, her tone just as quiet. “Will you be back for the morning?”

“Oh, you know I will,” the other woman replied, a grin pulling at her lips. “Damn, I’ve missed all this excitement.”

Ada smiled as Sadie nodded at them before striding for her horse. “A one woman army,” she murmured, drawing a chuckle from Arthur.

“That she is.”

Taking in a breath, Ada looked up at him and took his hand. “Right, then, bed for you, cowboy.”

“Oh, yes, ma’am.”

—

“This is close, ain’t it?”

“What was it before?”

He snorted, settling on his side, his back to the thin cloth that acted as a curtain between them and the other ladies and Jack. Luckily, they were all asleep by now, exhausted from the excitement and activities of the day. The wooden boards a foot or so away was scorched from where the lantern had erupted earlier, but it was still intact and sturdy. Ada stepped across it, glancing out of the window, before she crouched and moved under the small, raised platform above that Sadie used to sleep on. Unbuckling her gunbelt and placing it to the side, she then untucked her blouse from her skirt and lay beside him, her back to his chest. His arm went around her, holding her against him.

She exhaled a long breath as her hand slid under his, making their fingers lace together.

“What a God damn mess...” he murmured after a few moments.

She hummed her agreement, and he wished he could see her face.

“Don’t think about that now, just get some rest.”

He was only quiet for less than a minute.

“I didn’t know if you’d still be here.”

He felt her hand tighten on his slightly.

“Of course I’m still here.”

Christ, the way she said it, the conviction... He wished it was just them two. He wished he could just... He wanted to put his mouth on her, to relearn all of her and just—

“I’ve got your journal.”

“Really?”

He could hear the smile in her weary voice. “Yeah. It’s one of the things that was saved. Mary-Beth ran up and got it.”

He paused. “Did you read it?”

She shook her head slightly. “No. Didn’t feel right to.”

“You should’ve.”

“Why?”

“Could’ve told you what I stupidly didn’t. How much you mean to me.”

She was quiet for several moments, to the point where he thought she might have fallen asleep and not heard him. He was about to close his eyes when she moved their hands up and pressed a long, lingering kiss to the back of his hand.

“Sleep now,” she whispered, tucking their hands under her chin.

—

The early morning light spilled in through the window, growing moment by moment. She could see dust dancing in it, endlessly falling. She followed the beam, her gaze reaching his features, the sunlight illuminating him in the semi-darkness of the shack.

She didn’t take her eyes off of him as she pulled her blouse on.

She’d missed him. Almost unbearably. She’d cried night after night after night as quietly as she could behind one of the shacks, face in her hands. Sadie had known, obviously. She’d given her her space, though, which she’d greatly appreciated.

Arthur wasn’t a distraction. He wasn’t something to take her mind off of her anxieties and irritations, he was... He was everything. He was what she wanted, what she needed, and everything that lay in between.

The separation had revealed that to her. It had also revealed that she could live this life nearly on her own, could look after and lead people, but she didn’t want to. She wanted someone, him, by her side.

And what he’d said last night... She thought her heart was going to burst.

She couldn’t help but think, then, of the girl she’d been before, the girl from Strawberry, the girl who’d wished and waited for more.

If only I could tell you what was coming.

And there was still more to come. More unnecessary gambles and putting people’s lives on the line, and Dutch... Something had changed in him, rather visibly, and Arthur had noticed it, too, even before what had occurred with the Pinkertons the previous night.

She thought she would have revelled in that moment, when he told her his doubts about Dutch. Would have had to have stopped herself from saying ‘I told you so’, but she had just felt... sad. It wasn’t the victory she had dreamed about. Despite all she and Sadie had done, leadership was now well and truly back in Dutch’s hands, even if he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. She’d had to bite her tongue when he’d looked all them all, helpless and without a plan.

The kingdom was falling, and the king was the cause.

She’d have to talk with Sadie and Arthur, plan what their next and final move should be because this couldn’t carry on any longer.

Arthur jolted awake beside her suddenly, making her blink and return to the present. She watched as he realised and remembered where he was before his eyes found hers. She smiled softly, finishing buttoning up her blouse.

“Good morning,” she murmured.

“Hey.” He rubbed at his eyes groggily, taking her in. She was out of the blouse and skirt from the day before, now in trousers and a cream blouse, her gunbelt back around her waist. “Where’re you goin’?”

“Sadie and I heard about an O’Driscoll camp not too far from here the other day. We planned to go and check it out this morning.”

He swallowed, his throat dry. “Okay, but we gotta move on.”

She reached over and pulled her boots closer, pulling them on. “Yeah, but that probably won’t happen ‘till tomorrow morning, though. We have to figure out where to go, exactly. Be smart about our next move because we can’t take another surprise like last night.”

He gazed at her, feeling both sad and in awe.

There was the leader she’d had to become.

Clearing his throat, he leaned up on an elbow. “D’you want me to come?”

A smile pulled at the corner of her mouth as she finished lacing one boot and started on the other. “No, thank you. This is ladies business.”

“Ah, I understand.” He smiled, scratching at his beard.

God, I need a shave.

She finished lacing her boot and reached over to take a sheathed knife that lay on a folded pile of her clothes. It wasn’t the one Sean had given her, he noted as she pushed it into her boot.

“Hey.”

She looked to him as she finished tying her hair back with a black ribbon, raising her eyebrows a little.

“C’mere.”

Her smile returned as she leaned down at his murmured request and pressed her lips to his. He couldn’t help but groan quietly, his hand moving around to settle on her lower back to draw her closer. He felt her smile widen a little against his lips as her fingertips brushed under his chin.

“I have to go...” she murmured, doing very little to actually pull away.

“One more minute won’t hurt,” he drawled, his fingers caressing her back.

She exhaled a laugh, pulling her head back just slightly. “Do you want Sadie bursting in here?”

“Hell no,” he muttered as he released her, making her laugh again as she pulled back.

“Well, then...” She pulled a thin, dark brown jacket on as she arched an eyebrow. “Besides, you need to rest. Sleep, Arthur Morgan.”

“I know what I need.”

She did her very best to look scandalised as she swatted his caressing hand away, smiling. “Plenty of rest before any of that.”

There was a ghost of a smirk on his lips. “Why, I don’t have to do any movin’.”

She gave a quiet gasp of disbelief even as she grinned, shaking her head. “You are a scoundrel.”

“You love it.”

Before she could respond, he leaned up and settled a hand on the back of her neck, pulling her closer and kissing her again. Her body instantly relaxing and pressing against his did wonders for his ego. Yet, alas, a few moments later she broke the kiss and licked her lips to hide a smile.

“Come on, Morgan, let me go.”

“If I have to,” he grumbled, releasing her and watching her as she got to her feet, moving out from under the platform.

She grinned at how put-out he looked.

Like a cat that hadn’t been fed the moment it was hungry.

Ada pressed her lips together, though, when he also pushed himself up, grunting as he hit his head on the platform and muttering out a curse. Stepping out from under the platform, he rubbed his head and nodded towards the front of the shack.

“C’mon, I’ll see you out.”

Her hand found his as they walked out into the cool, damp morning air, the trees too thick to allow much light in to warm and harden the mud. She was about to turn to him and order him back to bed when Dutch’s voice sounded.

“White to D4...”

They turned together, finding Dutch sat on a chair on the jetty to their left, looking out across the water. Ada released Arthur’s hand as he frowned, watching the older man move his hands slightly as he stared out.

“... White to D4...”

She patted his arm and met his gaze, smiling lightly, then walked down the steps, giving him space. Rolling his shoulders, he took a breath and approached the man.

“You okay, there?” he asked gently.

“Workin’ it all out,” Dutch responded, not looking at him. “Once and for all, Arthur.”

Arthur hummed, leaning back against the railing and folding his arms, watching Dutch closely. “What now?”

Dutch’s gaze shifted to him. “We’re back... And I’m sittin’ here, and I am contemplatin’ the great journey of the sun, and considerin’ a famous chess move.” Arthur scratched his beard, his gaze briefly rising to meet Ada’s a little way off, her eyebrows raised. Dutch didn’t notice, his eyes back on the water as he continued. “Those oily enactors of a mediocre justice, the Pinkertons and their benefactor, the depressing millionaire Leviticus Cornwall, they want us, Arthur.” His voice had risen in agitation, his fists clenched. “They want us, and they are goin’ to have us.”

Arthur kept his own tone light. “Well, maybe they ain’t the problem.”

“Meanin’?” Dutch snapped.

He sighed, shaking his head. “I don’t know, it’s just, well...” He chuckled slightly, then paused. “... I can’t help but feel we would’ve been better runnin’ off someplace else.”

Dutch now chuckled. “But the, the game ain’t over, Arthur. I mean, I ain’t, I ain’t played my, my final move but...”

As he trailed off slightly, Arthur had to stop himself from gritting his teeth. “I guess I’m more interested in savin’ lives than winnin’ at chess.”

“Then maybe life ain’t such a thing to cling onto so tightly!”

“No doubt,” Arthur quickly said, before gesturing towards the shack. “But what about the women?”

Dutch paused then, his hands dropping to his lap. He was quiet for a few moments. “You sound like Hosea,” he murmured, his voice cracking slightly. “I miss...” He took a breath, raising his eyes to the sky. “... him.”

It broke Arthur’s heart because, God, he did, too, but he couldn’t, wouldn’t back down. “I asked you a question.”

Dutch looked at him. “What do you think?”

Arthur shook his head. “We can’t stay here. That much is obvious. But where are we gonna run to? I mean they chased us from the west, they chased us over the mountains, they ran us into the sea—”

“Arthur...” Dutch had closed his eyes for a few moments, rubbing his temple. He looked at him. “... do you have my back?”

Arthur looked at him, his hands on his belt. He felt angry. “Always, Dutch... but there’s more than your back to worry about.” Dutch looked away but Arthur carried on. “We need more money. We’ve been on the run for months now, and I seen you...” He lowered his voice as he leaned closer, some of the anger seeping in to his tone. “... killin’ folk in cold blood, like you always told me not to!” His voice had risen, though, as Dutch stood, shaking his head and stepping away, resting his hands on the railing. Still he carried. “And, I’m sorry, but I think that if we listened to Annie and Sa—”

“There is country in Roanoke Ridge, past Butcher Creek, I believe we could hold,” Dutch spoke over him.

Arthur couldn’t help it, the sense of relief that there was a plan of some kind. “Okay.”

“And you and Charles, you could take folks up that way. Micah...” Dutch trailed off for a moment, looking across the water. “... and I need to do some reconnaissance. I ain’t got a final plan, yet.” He turned to Arthur suddenly. “Arthur, I ain’t got a...” He trailed off again. “... I just need time.” He looked at him. “I need time, and no traitors.”

Arthur just looked at him, silent. Then, he turned and moved away, heading towards Ada.

She watched Dutch, his gaze dropping as he sat back down, his back to them. Her eyes slid to Arthur’s, her jaw clenched. She’d had to hold her tongue from snapping that Arthur needed rest, they all did, he and Micah included, and that she and Sadie could handle things, like that had been doing.

Her heart had fluttered slightly when Arthur had started to suggest that, but, there would always be only one leader here. Inclining her head, she gestured for Arthur to follow her as she turned and headed for the horses. Raising her gaze, she saw Sadie coming down the main path, raising her hand to acknowledge her as she drew her horse to a halt.

Arthur sighed heavily as he neared, running a hand down his mouth.

“Do you know it?” he asked quietly, watching her as she adjusted the stirrups on Maggie’s saddle. “Roanoke Ridge?”

“Yeah,” she murmured, taking a Repeater from the shed beside them and slotting it into the holster on the saddle. “There’s some caves up there, the locals call it Beaver Hollow.” She paused, then turned to him. “Be careful.”

A corner of his mouth lifted. “We will.”

“I mean it. I don’t like it up there, Arthur, it’s...” She shrugged slightly. “It just feels strange. Charles and Sadie have run into the people who occupy the caves, the Murfree Brood, a couple of times, as I’m sure Charles will tell you, but...” She released a breath, gazing at him. “... Be vigilant, please.”

He stepped closer, his gentle smile returning. “Always am.”

She raised her eyebrows slightly, but she couldn’t help her own small smile. “We both know that’s a lie, Arthur Morgan.” She placed a hand on his chest, patting gently. “See you later.”

He caught her arm gently as she went to turn, drawing her closer. “Hey...”

She leaned into the soft kiss he claimed her lips with, her eyes falling shut. Sadie’s distant, pointed cough made her pull back after several moments, her smile wider. Gripping Maggie’s saddle, she pulled herself up and gathered the reins, gazing down at him.

Patting the horse’s neck, his smile lingered. “Come back to me, Miss Sawyer.”

“I will,” she answered, her features softening, before she turned Maggie as he stepped away, and headed for Sadie.

Arthur gripped his belt as he watched them, Sadie grinning at her and tossing her a couple of boxes of ammunition as she neared.

He watched them ride off, a tightening and anxiety in his chest he hadn’t felt before.

—

It had been far too easy rounding them up. Ada paced before the six kneeling men, tapping her revolver against her leg.

“I’m gonna ask again, and I’ll warn you, I’m really running out of patience.” She stopped in the middle of them, sighing. “Do any of you know Thomas O’Driscoll?”

A greying man tutted as he pulled a face. “Shit, you probably shot five Thomas O’Driscoll’s here, lady.”

She looked at him. “Colm O’Driscoll’s nephew. That Thomas O’Driscoll.”

There was silence, the men glancing at each other or staring at the ground suddenly. Ada glanced at Sadie who arched an eyebrow. That was different. The men would usually holler that they didn’t know a damn thing or plead that they didn’t know anything.

Ada returned her attention to them, looking from man to man. “Who can tell me where he is?”

The silence continued.

“Don’t make this hard for yourselves, boys,” Sadie called from behind her.

One of the men lifted his head and looked behind her, to Sadie, she thought. Then, he shot to his feet.

“Get ‘em, lads!”

“Shit,” Ada hissed as the men scattered and she spun, seeing a group of men running through the trees towards them, firing.

“Fuck, they must have gone out huntin’!” Sadie called as they ran for cover.

Darting behind trees, Ada gritted her teeth as the men they’d had captured moments before found their guns and joined in the firing. Flinching as bullets flew past them, some striking their trees, she looked to Sadie.

“Shit, there’s too many of ‘em, we better go!” Sadie called to her.

“We should spilt up and draw them off so they don’t follow us back to camp!”

Sadie nodded, gripping her rifle. “All righ’, I’ll meet you in Van Horn!”

“All right, be careful! I’ll give you cover!”

The trees were close enough together that Sadie could dodge bullets as she ran, weaving between them. Ada leaned out, firing at men. They were also hiding behind trees, though, giving no one an advantage. Bullets came from behind her, and she knew Sadie was firing to give her cover, so, taking a breath, she lunged to the left and ran. They had found the men at a top of the hill, so she took the route down the incline, sliding down it slightly.

“Go on, get ‘er! We got the other one!”

Oh, shit. Well, now I know the plan worked...

She sprinted as she reached the bottom, the men who were following her, mercifully, not firing. She and Sadie had left their horses some way back, near the road so they wouldn’t have drawn attention, but how the hell would she get to them from here?

She veered left suddenly, hoping she was going somewhat in the right direction.

“No, don’t, wait!”

No, thanks, I think I’ll keep running—

Something landed a little way behind her, and there was an almighty explosion. She grunted as the ground shifted beneath her, the force of it knocking her to the floor. She felt the heat of it on her back, the dust and dirt it threw up filling her lungs. Gasping in a breath, she grabbed the revolver that had fallen out of her hand and crawled forward, quickly pulling herself behind a boulder.

Coughing in to her arm to try and muffle the sound, she closed her eyes at the sound of movement several feet away.

“That’s his fuckin’ niece, you fuckin’ idiot! He’s been lookin’ for her!”

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know! Please, don’t, I—”

She jumped as a gunshot went off and a body fell, frozen in her spot.

Oh, Jesus Christ.

—

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